


Black Coffee

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: First Time, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Men's Room sex, Public Sex, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: If you were sat eating breakfast and you saw a man flying outside, you might be spooked - if you saw somebody has hot as Nathan, especially shirtless, then you might have other things on your mind. Hiro is evidently thinking of both of these things when he meets Nathan at the Fly By Night cafe. Set in Season One.





	Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2007 to Livejournal.

Seeing a man wearing pyjamas in broad daylight can mean one of many things. Locals pop over to the 7/11 in their slippers to get the newspaper, naked bachelors are left out on the street in celebration and tied to lamp-posts, where secret lovers sometimes will leave hurriedly, forgetting their clothes. _Some_ like to cool off, others like to be extrovert, and then there are your everyday nut jobs. And all the way out here in this little slice of remote Americana - in a beaten, tin shack of a desert diner - it's easy to assume the latter.

But who's the crazy one when it's _Hiro_ dreaming of _flying men?_ Surely, it _couldn't_ be real. With the strong smell of hearty cooking filling each breath, he tried to come to his senses. The scantily-clad stranger soon pushed open the glass door, head hung low, whilst shyly signalling to the startled onlookers.   
  
"Okay, you've had your laughs," he began, "Could anyone possibly lend me a cell phone?" Explaining his means as best he could, he made his way forward, bare feet slapping on the black and white tiles.

The younger man had no real interest in his attire, nor did he care for his embarrassment because, after seeing such a power displayed right there in the window like a film in motion, anyone would have thought he'd walked into an action movie - or pulled up at the drive-in straight from his restaurant booth. He had seen someone fly with his very own _eyes._

And the flying man's body wasn't bad either, if he was to tell the honest truth - a handsomely toned torso of rippling muscles, with a scattering of dark hair, cut off at a drawstring waist. Like the hot boys in his comic books, the bishounen of back home - if not better. He couldn't believe it.  
  
That guy was a _hero,_ like he was. He _must_ have been. And for all his adventures across the world with Ando, he'd never seen anything quite like a _superman,_ or a boy wonder. It was the stuff of fiction but, then again, the very concept of bending space and time was hardly a boring topic starter.

People may have laughed at the idea or shaken their heads but, whichever way you looked at it, his power had a genuine impact. Hiro didn't need to prove anything to anyone - he'd put it into _practice_ \- he knew what he could do. He remembered how he saved the schoolgirl in that bustling Tokyo street of bicycles and cars, whilst elderly citizens and market traders marvelled. Out of all the hobbies he could have chosen to pursue in his spare time, he'd picked saving the world. And that was no mean feat. Just try putting _that_ on your passport, under the occupation line.  
  
Slipping his pyjama pants over a bar stool seat, Nathan Petrelli lifted himself up to the counter. Drumming his fingers on a spare plastic menu, he made a point of ignoring most of the listed, greasy cuisine, and instead opted for the safest bet.

"I'll have a coffee, please," he forced a smile at the waitress - which must have been quite difficult to do, given how he was now faced with Hiro, wide-eyed and grinning. At first he didn’t speak; he merely craned his neck at an awkward angle, over several dishes of hash browns, pancakes and bacon. But there was no mistaking - he was looking _right_ at him.

"Hello," he managed, in the barest grasp of English. He stared down towards the strong arms in awe, his heaving biceps, and again the whole of him - scouring Nathan's back for wings or some other device of flight. What an amazing _being_ he was. "You fly-man?" he stammered, a little unsure of whether he should broach the subject. The brown haired man tried to deny it, for all the good it would do - I mean, Hiro had already seen him land in the sand outside. "So beautiful," he smiled at him, admiring his physique.

"I think you have the wrong word there," Petrelli laughed nervously, a part of him hoping that he _had_ but, then again, a part of him hoping that he _hadn't_. Nakamura's language skills may have been poor, but still even _Nathan_ knew when he was being checked out by someone. And, as a good-looking man running for congress, it certainly wasn't the first time a member of the same sex had done that. Or the first time he'd _taken them up on the offer._ But the little Japanese guy _did_ have some considerable charm, he would come to realise.

"Maybe majestic," Hiro replied, "A bird - like the crane, the falcon - or the bold American eagle." He stretched out at arm's length, whistling as he cut through the air.

"Yeah, something like that I guess," Nathan felt that was a _very_ kind compliment. "Listen," he continued, "You didn't just see me do that - okay?" The American looked happy to receive a Fly By Night t-shirt from the girl behind the counter. As flattered as he was by all the attention, he preferred to cover up as much possible. Having said that, he wasn't to know what would come _next._

"No problem, I understand," the awestruck visitor told him, before pointing towards an entrance at the back of the diner, "I need to go to the toilet anyway." Instead of leaving straight away, he helped his friend to get the _idea_ with a simple loving embrace, slipping his hands underneath his tee and holding on tight. "So long, sexy fly-man," he winked.

That was all the older man needed to get him going - he was _half_ -sure that Nakamura was interested in him to begin with but, as he was still as horny as hell from last night's unfinished encounter with that beautiful blonde, Nathan didn't need any persuading in seeing just  _how_ interested Hiro really  _was._

"Milk and sugar?" the waitress offered.

"I'll have it black," he decided, "I've already found something sweet to go with it..."  
  
Hiro stood calmly at the troughs, hearing the bathroom door click shut behind him, as he expected. He hadn't unzipped yet; he was waiting for it to be done _for_ him. "Give it a short while," he thought to himself, pretending to pee.

This place was _cruisy_ enough; it was a palace of _pleasure_ for passing businessmen, but Hiro wasn't just looking for any old piece of executive ass. No, he'd already seen what he wanted out there in the cafe. And, as shy as he came across, he was a sure little devil when he wanted to be - he understood the signs of a flirt, and he knew what other men saw in him. He was _cute, vulnerable_ and, most of all, seemingly unaware of his appeal. His eyes wandered from the porcelain basins, from a sole crumbled urinal cake to the plumbing beneath, but not once did he turn around to check.  
  
"Who's there?" Hiro teased, ignoring the identity of his welcome visitor. He was only _playing;_ he knew the answer to his question.

The currently smirking Nathan, however, was in a far more _go-getting_ mood. Politicians did pride themselves in being able to have whatever they _wanted,_ and then taking it _quickly._ Dragging his buddy into the far-end stall, in the nicest possible way of course, he could barely keep his hands off of him. He thrust his hips and powerfully pressed the tourist up against the painted brick wall, asserting his masculinity.

"Uh," Nakamura-san groaned, "You must like little me?"

But our man was having none of that _'little me'_ business. "Well," he said, grinding into him, pelvises aligned, "It doesn't seem so small to me..." A fair few myths were to be expelled that day - who could have known that, at just over five feet, Hiro was so well hung.  
  
Avoiding head-butting each other by a mere fraction, they went in for the kiss. Hiro tasted of waffles, of honey, of sweetness - almost giving Nathan a sugar rush there and then. The pyjama-wearing man kissed him once, and then twice, frantically on the lips, simultaneously trying to lock the cubicle whilst still fully focussing on the Japanese boy.

Hiro pulled his own pants down to his ankles, tripping over them and crashing into the divider, allowing the Petrelli brother to grope at his cock through his underwear. Nakamura moaned at the friction between skin and cotton as his clothed erection was slowly rubbed. The sensation was so overwhelming, it nearly numbed his nose to the smell of cleaner's disinfectant and almost took his mind off how horrible this place really _was._ So much so that he could barely contain himself. They were all set to go, ready and raring - but, sadly, their encounter was not to last.  
  
Somebody was approaching the men's room. "Mr. Petrelli, your car is here!" a voice of authority called from outside, followed by a swift knock. His people were here to pick him up.

With Ando gone, Hiro would be on his own, and by himself for the first time in this foreign country. He had no means of transport and hardly enough lingo to hitchhike to the end of the road, let alone into the city. Besides, unlike _some_ lovers, he wasn't the kind to stop halfway through. He wanted to finish what he'd started. "Give me rido, please," Hiro chanced his luck, "Poop, poop?" He honked an imaginary horn.

Nakamura was more of an adorable travelling companion than Nathan could ever have hoped for. So he cupped the back of his neck and brought him in for one last lock of lips - which roughly translated into the _affirmative._ "Sure," he then flashed his teeth, "We'll find just _plenty_ to do between here and Vegas..."


End file.
